A little grit and Polish

Going down a salt mine and visiting a concentration camp might not seem the ideal ingredients of a relaxing city break.

Yet the salt mine turns out to be fun; while the pilgrimage to Auschwitz, though anything but, provides a salutary reminder of man's seemingly limitless capacity for brutality and hatred.

If you feel uneasy about tourism that appears to feed off human wickedness, then give Auschwitz a miss. But Cracow has much else to offer, as increasing numbers of visitors are discovering.

The ancient capital of Poland is often compared with Prague, the historic Czech city 400 miles to its west, and now one of the most popular destinations for British short-breakers. There are obvious similarities.

Both are dominated by a castle on a hill just a short walk from the centre. Both possess a breathtaking cathedral and countless ornate churches and buildings.

Both have restored their Jewish quarter in memory of the millions of Central European Jews murdered by the Nazis during World War II.

Both are intensely musical cities, with concerts held at a host of spectacular venues. And both are home to an important university, which means a large student population and lively nightlife.

But to call it the new Prague undervalues both cities. Cracow is not the 'new' anything: it was settled at about the time of the birth of Christ, and parts of its castle and cathedral date from the 14th century.

It ceased to be the Polish capital as long ago as 1596, but kings would still go there to be crowned in the cathedral on Wawel Hill, alongside the castle.

Wawel amounts to a potted history of the city and the Polish nation. After the royal family decamped to Warsaw, the castle fell into decay. Two hundred years later, southern Poland was absorbed by the Austrians, who took it over as their headquarters. They stayed until Polish independence was regained after World War I, when work to restore the castle began.

Between 1939 and 1945, the occupying Germans took away some of its treasures, but today you can view the castle largely as it was in its Renaissance heyday, with splendid furniture, paintings and tapestries, along with frescoes by Hans Durer, brother of the more famous Albrecht Durer.

Next to it, the cathedral contains magnificent carved tombs and monuments from the 16th century. From Wawel there is a pleasant walk through narrow streets to the Market Square, its four sides lined with houses from many periods. Here are the city's finest bars and restaurants, sporting outdoor tables in summer. Food and drink are cheap - a pint of beer costs around £1, while you can eat in style for no more than £10 a head, if you steer clear of overpriced wine.

Down the centre of the Market Square runs the Cloth Hall, the former covered market, now lined with stalls selling jewellery (amber is a speciality), carved toys and other souvenirs.

The salt mine at Wieliczka, eight miles from the city centre, is the most unusual excursion the city has to offer. It was in continuous production from 1290 until its conversion into a tourist attraction in 1996.

During those centuries the excavation of salt has led to the creation of many spectacular galleries, three of them made into chapels and one a ballroom, a popular party venue.

Salt carvings are everywhere, including statues of two local heroes - the astronomer Nicolas Copernicus, who studied in Cracow in the 1490s, and Pope John Paul II, who attended its university in the middle years of the 20th century.

Visitors walk down steps to the lowest gallery, 300 yards below ground, and come back up squashed into an alarmingly rackety miners' lift, in total darkness. Finally Auschwitz.

While no one is forced to make the 50-mile trip to this gruesome relic of World War II, where millions of Jews and others died, it is as much a part of European history as the castle and the grand buildings of the city centre.

During my stay in Cracow I met no tourist who had not been to Auschwitz or was not planning to go. Even so, I was surprised to see a British couple there with their ten-year-old daughter, until they explained that she was studying the subject at school.

The short film shown to arriving visitors, and the commentary by the guides is strictly factual, with no attempt to tug at the emotions: the horror is allowed to speak for itself. It is indescribably moving to step into a gas chamber and the bleak barrack rooms that were the last home of so many.

Few can arrive at Auschwitz unaware of its history: the visit teaches us nothing new. But there are some things that need to be seen at first hand for their dreadful implications to be brought home.

I do not think it can be called voyeurism: rather, it is one of the principal reasons why we travel.